observations
by lord yuuri
Summary: The advice box is always open. - byleth, notes, and remembering. golden deer/verdant wind route.


Old notes.

A bit yellowed due to time's passage, but still able to be read. All from the academy days. The dust makes her sneeze and she takes a moment to wipe it off her hands.

Byleth isn't sure what exactly motivated her to come to this part of the cathedral. The evening sky is the same dulled yellow, and she found herself with a desire to wander. Mercedes questioned if she was fine, and Byleth nodded in confirmation. Plainly, she was fine, at least for this moment. All seemed to be coming to an end soon; she and Claude spent many a night discussing the inevitable.

But here she is, reaching inside to pick up the first note she saw. She scans its contents, recognizes the excessive flair of the writing to be Ferdinand's.

_Dorothea runs away whenever she sees me and Lorenz approach her. We are confused as to what offends her? Professor, how can we show her we mean no harm?_

The corners of Byleth's lips turn up slightly. Thankfully, Lorenz had changed for...the slightly better, she supposes. She wonders if Ferdinand had changed as well. Did Dorothea still run from him? Did she give him the time of day? Even in the midst of war, before tragedy struck and hearts wavered, did they ever connect, reached a semblance of friendship?

She wonders. She wonders. She hopes.

She puts the note back into the box carefully, delicately, and picks up another one. This handwriting is concise, neat, simple.

_I'm certain Caspar's death won't be the result of charging headfirst into the enemy, but instead by choking due to his inability to eat food normally. Tell me, how do I prevent this untimely passing?_

Byleth closes the lid. This one she frowns at. She's uncertain if Linhardt would remember writing this note. If he did, how would he feel? Linhardt had once said to her that he wished things turned out differently. She reopens it after a few more moments. As she puts the note back - way at the bottom, hidden from her sight, her memory - she, too, wishes that things turned out differently.

She looks through the notes, answering them in her mind. Some she knows just the right thing to say; others she takes her time, crafting a response as carefully as a blacksmith crafts her weapons.

_Dimitri, Felix, and Sylvain are all too stubborn. I wish I could get them to change._

_Uh, Professor? Is it possible to hold a wedding without ever leaving my room? I have a feeling it is, but I'd like to hear your thoughts on it._

_I would be having trouble understanding the...colloquial language of Fódlan. Tell me, what would be a good item for providing assistance?_

"Heya Teach. What'cha doin' here?"

Byleth closes the lid again and places the box back on the podium. The dust billows slightly, scattering a bit into the air. She turns toward Claude, olive eyes sparkling with the usual curiosity.

"Just looking at some old items."

Claude tilts his head, eyes falling upon the advice box. "Old items, eh? I see. I didn't mean to interrupt your reminiscing."

"No, no. It's fine. It's time for me to get going anyway. It's getting late, and there's planning to be done tomorrow, and I haven't even eaten yet. If you haven't either, we can go eat together."

"Hm. That sounds good to me. I can never turn a meal."

Claude smiles and Byleth, walking towards him, heels echoing in the cathedral that was once filled with singing students and praying souls, grabs his hand and smiles back.

* * *

The next evening, Byleth returns to the cathedral. She returns to the advice box, still surrounded by dust on the old podium. She opens up the past again and sees a note folded on top of all the other notes. A pearl white against the wilting sunflower yellow. She picks it up by the corners, unfolds it, and reads.

_Tell me, Teach: will our dreams come true? All our dreams, all that our friends hold close to their hearts. All that the people of the world wish to see. Will our dreams come true? Won't they?_

Byleth's eyes widen slightly. The note was written in large letters, scratchy and occasionally squished together, but still somehow legible. This isn't his normal handwriting - she supposes he returned here in the dead of night, while the world slept, and wrote this quickly before a guard came by.

There's some a quill and some black ink near the box - two items that she just now notices. She takes the ink, opens it and slowly dips the quill in. There's no other paper - perhaps he didn't have time to prepare for that - so she flips the note over and gives her counsel for the last time.

_Yes, they will._

* * *

**I had fun writing this one. I know the students still ask for advice post-timeskip but let's pretend they don't lol. I like writing from the Golden Deer perspective since that was my first house (Fear the Deer), but for this story, I had certain characters recruited.**


End file.
